We’re coming to the end of your Dad’s Paternity Leave and the reality of being home alone with the two of you is finally hitting me.
Before I start to panic and turn this post into a rambling essay of sheer terror, I think I’ll concentrate on the good parts of the last two week.

You’re now officially an older brother.

I’ve been having visions of you trying to subtly trying to bump off this usurper but thankfully, you don’t mind the miniature version of your Dad.
He has caused little to no disruption to your day-to-day life so far.
In fact you barely notice him unless he starts to squeak for a feed from his Moses Basket (yes, squeak.)

With you being called ‘Bear’ it was only a matter of time before the newbie got his own nickname. It’s Bosco.
We’re not quite sure why but it’s easier to remember than Oscar.

For some reason Mummy has been unable to remember his actual name and has been referring to him as ‘baby’ since he made an appearance.
At least Bosco seems a bit more personal.

You’ve taken to petting his head and saying ‘ssh’ when he is unsettled – possibly the cutest thing I’ve ever seen – so it seems that the worry of how you will adjust was unnecessary.
What your parents should have been concentrating on was how on earth we can ever leave the house again.
For the last two days we’ve been trying to make it into town to get a few groceries but we’ve yet again reached the afternoon and you’re asleep, Bosco is asleep and we’re both too exhausted to brush our teeth never mind look presentable for the outside world.

I’ve now accepted that when your Dad goes back to work, I’m never leaving the house again.
The good news is: we’re no longer homeless! But that’s a whole other post.
Basically in the last two weeks we’ve undergone two of the most stressful life changes simultaneously and we’re going to be living out of boxes for the foreseeable because I don’t have the energy to unpack anything.
Don’t worry, I’ve found us underwear and toothbrushes: we’re golden.

When we had you it was all about learning how to look after a tiny (ish) baby and you’d think this time it would be a lot easier. It isn’t.
Clearly I’d blocked out the sheer exhaustion that comes with the night feeds but, again, I’m very lucky that your Dad is great at taking his share and letting me sleep.

The first time round I completely agreed with the advice: ‘sleep when the baby does’ but sadly this doesn’t work so well when you have to stay awake and look after a toddler.
So really, my sleep deprivation is ALL YOUR FAULT.
I’m kidding, although I am surviving on a lot of chocolate and currently still look pregnant.
Fun times.

Now, as much as I’ve enjoyed dedicating this little blog to you over the last year we took the decision that we should probably add Bosco to the equation, before he gets old enough to question if you’re the favourite.
With that in mind, your Dad has put together this new website for you both which will grow with the family.
This will be the new home for all our new adventures along with some other bits and pieces I’ll be working on.

I’ve decided to find a brush and try and tame this mop of hair. It’s looking far too similar to a lion’s mane at the minute and I’m just not confident enough to pull off a look like that.
If your Dad starts calling me ‘Mufasa’ I may kill him.